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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26758210">See?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlight_jukebox/pseuds/moonlight_jukebox'>moonlight_jukebox</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Pregnancy, Smut, The first half of this fic is nothing but angst, The fluff and smut come later, Usual Criminal Minds stuff, mentions of drug use</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:09:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,755</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26758210</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlight_jukebox/pseuds/moonlight_jukebox</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader didn’t anticipate falling in love with Spencer Reid, just like she didn’t anticipate the series of events that happened after. What she has to do now is painful…but it’s not just about her anymore.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Spencer Reid &amp; Reader, Spencer Reid &amp; You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. "You Don't Deserve Anything."</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Chapter Summary: Reader goes to Spencer’s apartment to tell him their lives are going to change...only to find out her life will be the only one altered.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When I met Spencer Reid, I had no idea his heart belonged to someone else. He was just a smart, funny, geeky guy I worked with. I was new to the team and he was the only member close to my age. We started hanging out at lunch, and that led to grabbing coffee, and that led to movie nights at my apartment a few times.</p><p>It also led to Spencer standing outside my apartment one night six weeks ago, banging on my door and sobbing. That's the night he told me about Maeve. How he loved her and how she was taken from him so cruelly just a year ago.</p><p>I offered him comfort…and things spun out of control. When Spencer pressed his lips to mine and ran his hands over my body, begging me to make the pain stop…how was I supposed to refuse? Especially when I wanted him as badly as I did.</p><p>The following morning we’d had a slightly awkward parting, but he promised things wouldn’t change between us. I wanted to believe him.</p><p>The team got called away on back to back cases after that night. The news I needed to tell Spencer I had found out 17 days ago…but it wasn’t the sort of thing I could tell him while we were on a case.</p><p>Which is why I was the one outside his apartment in the middle of the night now. My nausea had woken me up and I couldn't bear another second of Spencer not knowing what had happened. He needed to know.</p><p>The door flew open a few moments later to reveal a bleary-eyed Spencer. His complexation was wan and, the dark circles under his eyes looked like bruises.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” he rasped out.</p><p>“I…I need to talk to you. Please.”</p><p>“I don’t want to talk to you.”</p><p>My head jerked back in shock. I hadn't expected him to be rude. Awkward, sure, but Spencer was never rude like this. "It will only take a minute, Spencer. Please?"</p><p>He huffed out a dramatic sigh. "Fine." With that, he swung the door open, waving me inside.</p><p>The first thing I noticed was that everything was in disarray. Books and papers were scattered all over the floor, empty takeout containers littered the floor, but all of that paled in comparison to how Spencer looked. His beautiful curly hair was frizzy and snarled, the dark circles under his eyes were darker than was usual, and there was an aura of pain radiating from him that temporarily robbed me of my ability to speak.</p><p>“Are you going to get to the point?” he snapped.</p><p>I swallowed thickly, my eyes moving over his body. "What's wrong? Did…Did something happen on the case?"</p><p>He scoffed. “No, nothing happened on the fucking case.”</p><p>My head reared back at his words. Spencer didn’t swear…ever. “Well, something happened.”</p><p>“It’s her birthday,” he rasped. “It's Maeve's birthday but, she's not here. I lost her. I lost my future. I lost <em>everything</em>.”</p><p>I moved closer to him, my hands reaching for him. “Spencer, I can’t imagine the pain you’re in, but you haven’t lost your future-.”</p><p>Before my hands could reach him, he pulled away from me, his face a mask of revulsion. "Yes, I have," he snapped.  “She was supposed to be my wife! She was supposed to be the mother of my children!”</p><p>My stomach clenched at his words. “You could still have that, Spence.”</p><p>"Don't fucking call me that," he spat. "And no, I can't. Anything I do now would be settling." He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes shining with tears. "I'd rather have no family than settle for having a mediocre one with someone…like you."</p><p>Despite all my years in the FBI, the years I had spent as an active field agent, I had never been wounded. Never shot, never stabbed. I had no real frame of reference, but the way his words tore through my heart and left me cold…this felt like the sort of wound a person could die from.</p><p>“It’s not fair!” he shrieked. “It’s not fair that people like Maeve die and people like…like you get to walk around living.”</p><p>I stood stock-still, absorbing the venom of his words. "Right," was the only response I gave, my entire body going numb.</p><p>“I mean, look at you.” He waved his hand up and down gesturing to my body. “You’re not even pretty! She was beautiful! I never even got to be with her like that…but I’m sure it would have been so much better than…whatever I had with you.”</p><p>I nodded, my eyes glazing over. "Absolutely," I whispered as my nails dug into the palm of my hand.</p><p>Spencer wasn’t done. “And she was…she was so smart. She was a genius! She was the sort of woman a man like me could be with!” He looked at me, waiting for a response.</p><p>The one he got wasn’t what he wanted. “How long?”</p><p>His brows knit together in confusion. "Since I lost Maeve? It's been-“</p><p>“You misunderstand me,” I interrupted. “How long have you been on drugs?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You might think I’m an idiot…but this has to be drugs.”</p><p>“Fuck you,” he spat. “You don’t know a thing about me.”</p><p>I gave another nod. “Clearly. You’re not the man I thought you were.” I tried to tell myself he was acting this way because of the drugs; this wasn’t <em>my </em>Spencer.</p><p>But what if this man before me is the real Spencer?</p><p>“I could be a better man…but not for some bitch like you.” His eyes were wild, and his entire body seemed to twitch. “You fucking disgusted me. I’d kill you myself if I got even a <em>second </em>more time with her.”</p><p>I felt the dam holding my emotions at bay start to crack. I turned and made my way back towards the door. Once I had opened the door, I turned around to look at him.</p><p><em>How could I have thought I loved him?</em> I wondered.</p><p>The only thing that caused me to remain strong was the folded-up piece of paper in my purse and what that represented. <em>It isn’t about me anymore. </em></p><p>“I’m sorry you lost Maeve. She sounds like a remarkable woman.” I cleared my throat. “And I’ve never been more sure in my life that you didn’t deserve her. You don’t deserve anything.”</p><p>He was still screaming at me as I shut the door and walked out of his apartment. As I walked out of his life.</p><p>--</p><p>Everything felt different after I left Spencer's building. The air felt harsher against my skin; the texture of my steering wheel was more abrasive against my fingers. I had been in dangerous situations before, many, many times. I wasn't a stranger to feeling that rush of adrenaline that triggers your flight or fight response.</p><p>But even that felt different.</p><p>It would have been easy to feel adrift in my grief; in my heartbreak. It would have been easy to let it consume me.</p><p>My fingers left the steering wheel to reach into my bag that was sitting on the passenger seat, letting out a shaky sigh when my fingers brushed over the piece of paper inside.</p><p>I didn’t need to look at it. I had already memorized it. A tiny little gray blob inside of a black blob, inside of another gray blob.</p><p>I had never given much thought to becoming a mother. Sure, it was something I had thought of in the abstract. “One day” I’ll have kids.</p><p>“One day” just came much sooner than I had anticipated. I didn't realize how much I wanted this little blob until I saw it on that screen. It represented a world of possibilities; it represented my future.</p><p>I had thought Spencer would react differently. Maybe not be excited, necessarily, but at least be supportive. Some people may have thought it cruel but I...I couldn’t let this child be around him. He said he didn’t want a family with me, and I would rather die than have him say that to my child. My child didn’t need to feel that pain.</p><p>But Spencer was a member of the most elite unit in the FBI. He was the smartest man on the planet. He would find out. Then he would find me.</p><p>There was only one option, only one choice. Which is how I found myself standing in front of this door in the middle of the night, my knuckles wrapping on the wood.</p><p>Part of me wanted to call out, "it's only me," but I'm sure he could see that. After the pain he had experienced, he made sure to have every inch of his life in order. He wouldn't be taken by surprise again.</p><p>I respected that, especially now.</p><p>After a few moments of silence, I heard an alarm beep, followed by a series of locks clicking open before the door swung open to reveal my unit chief.</p><p>“Y/l/n,” he said urgently, his eyes running over me. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”</p><p>I licked my dry lips. “I need your help.”</p><p>Hotch quickly ushered me inside, his hand resting on my back. “What’s wrong? Do I need to call the team?”</p><p>“No,” I whispered urgently, my hand shooting out to grip his forearm. “This has to stay between us.”</p><p>“Alright,” he assured me, his voice soothing. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”</p><p>I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. “Hotch…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”</p><p>The older man blinked. “Sorry for what?”</p><p>“Nightingale.”</p><p>His entire body jerked at the word, his eyes growing impossibly wide. “<em>What</em>?”</p><p>I didn’t say the word lightly. Joining the BAU wasn’t like joining other units within the FBI. We hunted monsters…and sometimes those monsters hunted you in return. Nightingale had been set up after Hotch’s wife, Hayley, had died. The Boston Reaper had found Hayley because the BAU didn’t handle hiding her, a choice I know that Hotch still lost sleep over.</p><p>After that fateful day five years ago, the team had decided to develop the nightingale protocol. If any of us or our families were ever in danger, we would handle the protection and relocation in-house on a need to know basis.</p><p>“Nightingale,” I said again, my voice firm.</p><p>His posture didn’t relax. “Is there some threat that I’m not aware of?”</p><p>I nodded. “It’s not the sort you think. I’m…<em>I’m </em>not in danger of losing my life, but I <em>have </em>to disappear.”</p><p>Hotch crossed his arms over his chest. "You have to tell me why. If it's a threat to you, it's a threat to the team."</p><p>"Did you know?" At his blank stare, I added, "That Spencer's an addict."</p><p>One of his big hands came up to scrub over his face. “Yes, but he’s been clean for-“</p><p>I held up my hand. "Whatever streak he was on is over now."</p><p>“Y/n,” he snapped. “You can’t use this sort of protocol for this. I don't know what happened with you and Reid, but addiction is a disease, Spencer needs help.”</p><p>“Aaron,” I pleaded, my eyes wide and brimming with tears. “You don’t understand. I can’t…I can’t stay. I can’t help him.”</p><p>My unit chief just sighed. “Y/n, I know that fights between couples can be bad, but I don’t think there’s anything that warrants you <em>leaving </em>the FBI and <em>disappearing</em>. This is WITSEC stuff you’re asking for.”</p><p>I straightened my shoulders. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn't do the same thing if you had to." His mouth started to open, but I held my hand up. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn't do it to protect Jack."</p><p>Enlightenment slowly dawned on Hotch’s face as he looked down at my stomach. “Oh.”</p><p>“Yeah,” I said with a watery chuckle. “Oh.”</p><p>His shoulders dropped then as he walked over to me. In a move so unlike Hotch, he opened his arms and wrapped me in a hug. “You’re going to be an amazing mother,” he whispered. “But there’s no way we’re going to be able to pull this off without Garcia.”</p><p>I swallowed, my shoulders starting to shake while he held me in his arms. He was right, I knew he was.</p><p>--</p><p>My initial plan to tell no one about my little gray blob was slowly spiraling out of control. Garcia was like Hotch, she wouldn’t budge until I told her <em>why </em>I needed to disappear.</p><p>Penelope didn’t ask for more details about what happened with Reid, she had just smiled sadly, her hand squeezing mine. It seemed the only one in the dark about Spencer’s drug problem was <em>me. </em></p><p>It was just after 5 am when Garcia handed me the folder I would need to start over somewhere else.</p><p>“I’m going to miss you,” she whispered, wrapping me in a hug. “And I’ll miss this little bean.” I laughed when she placed her hand over my still flat stomach.</p><p>“I’ll miss you too, Penny.”</p><p>Garcia gripped my hand in hers. “Will you come back? One day? Can we see you again?"</p><p>All I could give her was a sad smile because I didn't know.</p><p>This life wasn’t just about me anymore.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Bits and Pieces</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Reid deals with the consequences the morning after. Reader reflects on her new life.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>-- Spencer’s POV—</em>
</p><p>The world came into focus in a haze of pain. I felt nothing but the pain in my head, pain in my heart, pain all over my body.</p><p>I was able to crack one eye open to take in my surroundings. I was on my bathroom floor. <em>Why am I on the bathroom floor?</em></p><p>The night before slowly started to slip back into place. <em>Maeve. </em>It was her birthday…but she wasn’t going to <em>have </em>any more birthdays.</p><p>It took a few moments to realize I had woken up because there was a pounding coming from my front door. Placing both of my palms against the tile, I was able to push my body onto my hands and knees.</p><p>Heaving out a deep sigh, I took stock of the chaos surrounding me.</p><p>I saw the belt on the floor. I saw the needle by the side of the tub. I saw the glass vial on the sink.</p><p>The gravity of what I had done finally settled over me; that was the worst pain of all.</p><p>The knocking at my front door didn’t cease, but it wasn’t a mystery who was there anymore.</p><p>Tugging the sleeve of my shirt down, I limped into my living room, taking a moment to lean against my couch.</p><p>“I know you’re in there, boy!”</p><p>Grimacing, I went to open the door. “I hate it when you call me that.”</p><p>On the other side of the front door stood one of the last people I wanted to see. "Then you shouldn't act like a snot-nosed little shit,” the older man muttered, shoving his way into my apartment.</p><p>Ben Walker was a retired FBI agent. He was a grizzly, angry man that had no living friends or family. Most people that knew him thought he was a real son of a bitch.</p><p>“How many days did you have?”</p><p>My throat dried out at is words. “One….one thousand eight hundred and twenty,” I choked out.</p><p>He just nodded. “What’s that, five years?”</p><p>“You know how many years that is.” I had seen Ben yesterday afternoon. I went to a meeting after Hotch let us go. I knew I was close to losing it. Ben did too, which is why he brought up how close I was to my five-year chip.</p><p>“Fine fuck up you’ve made this time, boy.”</p><p>I chuckled darkly, moving around him to walk towards the kitchen.</p><p>Ben Walker wasn’t done. “So, what’s the plan?”</p><p>Once I pulled a bottle of water from my fridge, I turned back to face him. I knew what needed to be done. “The bulk of it is in the bathroom, but I’m sure I hid more somewhere,” I told him. “You’ll have to tear the place apart to find it all.”</p><p>He just nodded, moving towards my bathroom. “We counting this as day one?”</p><p>
  <em>I hope. </em>
</p><p>--</p><p>The message from Garcia came later that night. There was a child abduction reported in Fairfax County and the local police had requested FBI assistance. Ben had long gone, leaving my apartment in ruins. He was thorough and I was grateful.</p><p>I made sure to wear a long-sleeved shirt underneath my cardigan. I was relieved this outfit wouldn’t stick out in the late January cold, because I knew what it was like to wear this in June to hide what I had done. The bend of my elbow was covered in blue and green bruises, a telltale sign that I blew out one of my veins. It was going to take time to heal.</p><p>As I walked into the BAU bullpen, I thought about what else needed to heal. The problem with having an eidetic memory is that it doesn’t shut off, even when I’m intoxicated.</p><p>I remembered everything I said to Y/n last night. I remembered how I told her…I told her I would <em>kill </em>her for another second with Maeve.</p><p>It wasn’t true.</p><p>I missed Maeve, <em>god </em>did I miss her. I missed the life I thought I could have with her. In reality, I wasn’t sure what the real Maeve was like. I only had her for moments. I had 10 months’ worth of stolen moments.</p><p>What had finally sent me over the edge yesterday was that I had forgotten it was her birthday until I got home and saw my calendar. This woman who was supposed to be everything to me, who was supposed to be the love of my life didn’t matter enough that I remembered her birthday.</p><p>That’s when I realized I had started to move on, and I couldn’t handle it. What’s worse is I realized <em>who </em>I wanted to move on with.</p><p>How could I have loved Maeve at all if I had fallen for y/n so quickly? Was it a disgrace to her memory?</p><p>After Ben left this afternoon, I allowed myself to remember the words I had said to her. It wasn’t true that I would kill her for another moment with Maeve…the truth is I would choose my time with her <em>over </em>having another minute with Maeve.</p><p>But I knew couldn’t blame my relapse on anyone but myself. My decisions are my own.</p><p>“You’ve been here before, boy,” Ben had said before he left. “You know what you need to do.”</p><p>He was right, I did know. I just hoped Y/n would be willing to let me explain.</p><p>Most of the team was already in the conference room when I arrived. Morgan and Blake were talking in the corner, JJ was typing on her phone, Rossi and Hotch were looking over the case files.</p><p>I realized something was wrong when my eyes landed on Garcia. Penelope Garcia, who was sunshine personified, the woman whose very personality went against my own but was still one of my closest friends, was refusing to meet my eye.</p><p>Hotch looked up when I entered the room, his eyes giving me a once over. “We’ll finish the briefing in the car. We need to go. <em>Now.</em>”</p><p>“Hang on,” Morgan interjected. “The kid’s here, but where’s y/l/n?”</p><p>You didn’t have to be a profiler to see how much Morgan’s words upset Garcia.</p><p>“Y/l/n has resigned from our unit effective immediately,” Hotch informed us.</p><p>“Wait, what?” JJ asked in bewilderment. “Where did she go?”</p><p>All eyes settled on our unit chief. “I don’t know, she resigned from the FBI.”</p><p>The world seemed to shift around me. “Where did she go?” I rasped.</p><p> “We don’t have time for this,” Rossi said calmly. “We have an 8-year-old kid to find.</p><p>He was right, Of course, he was right.</p><p>--</p><p>It was 16 hours, 43 minutes, and 17 seconds later, when I finally got to ask Hotch what happened.</p><p>I barged into his office without warning, but he didn’t look surprised in the slightest.</p><p>“Where is she?” I demanded.</p><p>“I don’t know, Reid.”</p><p>“Bullshit,” I spat. “How do you not know?”</p><p>The mask of cold indifference dropped from his face. In its place, I saw the man that was my friend, the man that I knew cared about me. "Spencer, I don’t know. No one does. She’s just gone.”</p><p>For the second time in 24 hours, the world shifted around me without warning. It wasn’t until I saw Hotch get up from his desk and move towards me that I realized I had fallen. I didn’t even register my knees hitting the floor.</p><p>She couldn’t be <em>gone. </em>She just couldn’t be. </p><p>“Can…Can we ask Garcia…” My thoughts were fractured, my breathing erratic. “Penelope can find anyone.”</p><p>Hotch knelt down in the floor beside me, his hands gripping my shoulders. “She asked us not to. She asked Garcia not to.”</p><p>I squeezed my eyes together tightly. “Aaron,” I whispered. “She can’t…”</p><p><em>Those can’t be the last words I said to her, </em>was the only thought in my head when the first sob tore out of my chest.</p><p><em>-- Reader’s POV</em> –</p><p>It was just over eight months ago when I sat beside Penelope Garcia in her lair in the FBI Headquarters in Quantico, Virginia.</p><p>“Well, little mama, where do you want to go?”</p><p>I wasn’t at all prepared when she asked me that. <em>Where did I want to go? </em>I had thought. <em>What sort of life do I want for myself…and this little gray blob</em>?</p><p>"Somewhere small," I had told her. "I've lived in D.C. for too long."</p><p>“Anything else?”</p><p>I had placed my hand on my stomach, mulling over my options carefully. “I want to go West.”</p><p>My new life had started in a small town just south of Bend, Oregon.</p><p>“Miss Reid?” a voice called out, pulling me from my thoughts.</p><p>I braced my hands on the arms of the chair while I heaved myself up. No one tells you how much <em>harder </em>it is to do everything when you’re pregnant. I placed one hand on my swollen belly while the other grabbed my purse.</p><p>Nancy greeted me with a warm smile. “You’re getting big!” She was the only nurse in Dr. Johnson’s practice that dealt with labor and delivery.</p><p>"Thanks," I mumbled, trying to not take offense at her words while I waddled towards the door. Once my pregnancy had reached 35 weeks, I saw the doctor once a week. I was 38 weeks today, so for the past three weeks, I had heard Nancy say the same thing.</p><p>I’m sure she meant well, and she wasn’t wrong. I looked like I had swallowed a watermelon…inside of another watermelon.</p><p>After she measured my weight and blood pressure, I was left to wait in the exam room for Dr. Johnson.</p><p>When I first left D.C., I hadn’t expected to feel so lonely without my friends; without my team. They had always been more than friends; they were my family.</p><p>Leaving my old life behind was so easy because I had no one to miss me. I wasn’t close to the biological family I had left.</p><p>For those first few months, I only felt that loneliness in the mornings. I had always been a morning person, and one of my favorite things to do was watch the sun come up. That was a tradition I kept up in Oregon.  I found so much comfort in seeing that golden light spread across the horizon, chasing the darkness away.</p><p>In those early morning moments, when the shadows of the night started to flee, I missed my old life. In the stillness of the morning, I could hear my friends' laughing. I could feel Rossi wrapping me in a hug. I could hear Morgan and Garcia's outrageous flirting.</p><p>I could hear Spencer. I could hear him talking about silly TV shows. I could hear him talking about random statistics.</p><p>In those early morning moments, I missed him so much my soul seemed to ache. I would ask myself, "Was this the right choice?"</p><p>That question got easier to answer the more time that passed. The first time I felt the first little flutter against my stomach, the first time I saw my little blob moving on the ultrasound.</p><p>I would do anything for that blob.</p><p>The door to the exam room opened, drawing me out of my daze. Dr. Johnson walked inside, giving me a warm smile. “How are you feeling, Miss Reid?”</p><p>It took some time, but I got better at not flinching at the last name I had chosen.</p><p>“I have to pee all the time,” I said dryly, causing his smile to widen.</p><p>The older man turned to grab the fetal heart doppler from the cabinet. “Still don’t want to know the gender?”</p><p>I shook my head. “It doesn’t really matter. I like surprises,” I told him as I laid back on the exam table, pulling my shirt up over my stomach.</p><p>“It’s rare these days, a parent not wanting to know the gender,” he conversed while he squirted some of the gel onto my stomach. “But we’ll know soon enough.”</p><p>The instant he pressed the machine to my stomach, the whooshing of my child's heartbeat filled the room. I had recorded the first time I heard it on my phone, even though I had no one to share it with. Hearing that sound never got old, and I don't think it ever would.</p><p>Dr. Johnson wiped off my stomach and helped me sit up. “You’re free to go into labor any time, Miss Reid.” He turned to wash his hand in the sink. “Do you have any names picked out?”</p><p>“No,” I lied. “None yet.”</p><p>I had known this child’s name the second I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t need to know the gender because I already <em>knew </em>in my soul who this little person was.</p><p>That knowledge is part of why I took the last name Reid. I had this fantasy that one day Spencer would become the sort of man I thought he was, he would be the type of man who was ready to be a father. So, one day, when I was sure it was safe, I could tell him about his child…that had his last name.</p><p>I understood addiction; I knew it didn't discriminate. I knew that there was a monster on Spencer's back that controlled him that night. I think the hardest part was that I didn't <em>see </em>it. I didn’t realize the monster was there.</p><p>The truth is, I was terrified. I was terrified that one day Spencer would lose control of that monster, and it would hurt my child. I couldn't risk that. I just <em>couldn’t. </em></p><p>The other reason I took Reid as my last name was because I knew Spencer wouldn't expect it; meaning it would be harder for him to find me.</p><p>If he looked at all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Linear Progression</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Months after Reader left, Reid has tried to put his life back together. He’s never stopped trying to find Reader, but he may find her in the worst way possible.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content Warning: Normal Criminal Minds stuff. Mentions of drug addiction. This series has a villain, and he harms women. There is no s*xual assault, but there is brief talk of torture, and then the death of the victims. Spoiler: Our unsub targets pregnant women, one of the infants does not survive. Reader and her baby are fine. I don't go into detail, but if you need to skip this, I understand. </p><p>A/n: How can I ever thank you all enough for being so patient with me? That being said, this chapter does end on a cliffhanger that you probably saw coming if you read “River” by @yours-truly-r. She shared this plot with me, so this is my version. I’ll try my best not to make you wait too long for chapter 4. Chapter 3 &amp; 4 are in Spencer’s point of view, but the remainder of the series will be in Reader’s POV.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The night we came back from my first case with the BAU, Morgan declared that he was going to a bar near his apartment to "get lucky." When I pointed out the fact that it was almost 2 am, he had told me, "time is an illusion, Pretty Boy."</p><p>That was the first time he called me pretty boy, along with the first time I tried to explain a theoretical concept he had no interest in hearing. </p><p>He was right to a degree. The way we understand time is an illusion. Time doesn’t happen in the linear way that we as a society perceive it to. The physics of time are still widely debated, but the running hypothesis is that everything that has ever happened is still happening right now. Every single moment in time is happening all at once, and it always will be. </p><p>Morgan didn’t “get lucky” that night, but he did give me a ride back to my apartment. I think that was the beginning of our friendship; I had never been able to understand the social constructs of relationships and friendships, but I think he felt some sort of responsibility for the skinny kid with glasses who was babbling about the physics of time at 3 am. </p><p>My friendship with Derek Morgan was one of the most important of my life. </p><p>Which is why I wasn't going to murder him for banging on my door at 7 am.</p><p>“Open up, Pretty Boy!”</p><p>Grumbling, I got out of bed and padded down the hallway towards my living room where Morgan was pounding on the door so hard, I was concerned it was going to fly off its hinges. </p><p>“If you break my door, you’re gonna fix it,” I muttered out when I finally pulled the door open. </p><p>The man who was the closest thing to a brother I had just smiled at me. “I restore houses, kid. It’d be an improvement.” </p><p>Smirking, I waved him into my apartment. In the months since…Since February, Morgan had made it a habit of coming by several times a week whenever we were in town. I don’t know if the rest of the team knew he did it, I don’t know if they were as worried about me as he was, but it wouldn’t have surprised me. </p><p>“Coffee?” I asked, making my way into the kitchen. </p><p>"We'll grab some on the way," he said, flopping down on my couch. "We have a case; I told Hotch I'd swing by and get you. It's wheels up as soon as we get there and finish the briefing."</p><p>I frowned. “I didn’t get any message.” </p><p>“I know. I asked Garcia to let me wake you.” He turned his head around to look at me. “You haven’t been sleeping, kid.” </p><p>He wasn’t wrong. “It’s…I’m trying, Derek.” </p><p>I didn’t need to say it, because he knew it. Much like time, recovery isn’t a linear process. You start, you stumble, you go back, sometimes you go up then down. It’s an imperfect journey because there isn’t a finish line; addiction can’t be beaten, only beaten back.</p><p>Derek Morgan had been beside me through every step of my recovery. </p><p>Lumbering off the couch, he walked over to stand before me. “Reid, you’re doing the best you can. Everyone stumbles.” </p><p>I shook my head. “It’s different. I can…I can still see it. I can still see it all, Morgan.” </p><p>I could still see the look on Ben’s face when he found the vials of Dilaudid I had hidden all around my apartment. I could still remember the look on Hotch’s face when he told me she was gone. I could still see the anger on Garcia’s face when she refused to help me find her. </p><p>Most of all, I remember how y/n looked when I told her I would kill her, give up her precious life, for one more moment with Maeve. Every morning, right before I wake up, that memory flashes behind my eyes.</p><p>I’ve called in every favor I’m owed, reached out to every connection; no one could find her. She vanished. </p><p>I quickly realized the only way she could vanish like that is if she had help from inside the bureau, and if I had to guess, I’m sure I know who helped her. If she went to all these lengths, she didn’t want to be found, least of all by me. </p><p>"We'll find her, Spencer," Morgan said gently, pulling me from my thoughts.</p><p>He said the words to comfort me, but even he knew they weren’t true. No one would find y/n y/l/n until she wanted to be found. </p><p>Nodding my head, I made my way back towards my bedroom to get ready for the case. </p><p>Making amends is very big in the recovery process. I wanted to make amends to y/n, and while I wanted that to be in the traditional sense, I settled for a symbolic one. </p><p>I tried to make myself into the man she thought I was before that night. Every time I felt the itch crawl up my spine, I thought of her face. It didn't make the craving go away; it just made it easier to bear.</p><p>I didn’t deserve to have her back in my life, but I wanted to be someone who did. </p><p>After I had finished getting ready, I made my way over to my bedside table to pick up the coin I carried with me everywhere, running my fingers over the edges before placing it in my pocket. </p><p>Two hundred and forty-seven days sober, and each one of them was for her. </p><p>--</p><p>We never made it to the bullpen that morning. Hotch called and informed us that it was wheels up "immediately," and that we would debrief on the plane. Morgan and I were the last members of the team to arrive. He took a seat on the couch beside Callahan while I opted to sit at the table across from Hotch and JJ.</p><p>“Garcia is going to be out for the remainder of the week. She has the flu,” our unit chief informed us, his eyes fixed on the tablet in front of him. </p><p>Morgan toyed with his phone, no doubt trying to text his ‘baby girl’ before take-off. “Who is going to be running things from here since she’s out? Kevin?” </p><p>Hotch nodded, but I couldn’t help but notice he seemed distracted. “He’s the most familiar with Garcia’s systems.” </p><p>“Is that what they’re calling it these days,” Rossi muttered just a <em>bit </em>too loudly, earning a mock glare from Hotch, a confused look from Kate, an eye roll from Morgan and JJ, and a soft huff of laughter from me. </p><p>“Let’s get started,” Hotch ordered, drawing all of our focus back to the present. “The Oregon State Police have requested our help.” </p><p>I couldn’t help but wrinkle my nose at the tablet in front of me, further proof Garcia wasn’t on this case. Despite how mad she was at me over Y/n, she still always accommodated my wishes for paper files. </p><p>The state police?” Morgan asked. “Not the locals?” </p><p> "No," Hotch answered, right as I brought up an image on my screen. "He's not sticking to one county."</p><p>I heard a strangled gasp from JJ, but I didn't need to look up to know why. “How many?” I asked. </p><p>“When the original request was made two women had been abducted. Both of them were pregnant, days from giving birth, and both from the same town of Silverton, Oregon. The first victim was Iris Jenkins. She was a 31-year-old woman, and she was 40 weeks and 2 days gestation when she was taken by the unsub. The M.E. estimates he held her for less than 24 hours before she died.”</p><p>“The baby?” JJ asked, her voice thick with emotion.</p><p>“He was left outside of a local hospital in Silverton. He was completely unharmed. The next intended victim is Nancy Williamson. She was abducted outside her workplace. Also 40 weeks pregnant with a boy.”  </p><p>“Could that be a coincidence?”</p><p>Hotch still didn’t look up from his tablet. “It could have been before the latest victim.”</p><p>“But Nicole Williamson escaped?” Morgan asked. “That’s lucky. Did she give a description of the guy?”</p><p>“No, she said he kept her blindfolded and bound to a chair.” </p><p>That caused me to pause. "That doesn't make sense. Why would the unsub blindfold them if he plans on killing them anyway?"</p><p>Rossi spoke for the first time. “Psychological torture? Sensory deprivation?” </p><p>I thought about that as I swiped through the crime scene photos; pausing when I saw a photograph of a letter on the screen. "He makes them write letters?” </p><p>“Just the first victim and the third. The one that got away was only held for 12 hours.”</p><p>I frowned. “Is this blood? Or just red ink?”</p><p>“The first is red ink, the second letter is still being processed.”</p><p>It was obvious based on the letter spacing and how many loops were in the letters that a woman wrote this letter. Based on the contents of the letter, I could also assume she was under duress.</p><p>Hotch spoke again, pulling my focus. “Morgan, I'd like for you and JJ to drive up to Silverton. Visit Miss Williamson and ask if she's up for a cognitive interview, then visit the M.E., ask him if he remembers anything about the first victim.”</p><p>“Where was the…” JJ’s question trailed off when he got to the same image Kate’s hand had been frozen over for the last 47 seconds, the same photo that was described in the incident report that Hotch had on his screen.</p><p>My unit chief, my friend, cleared his throat before he spoke. “Kayla Whitmore was found an hour ago in Eugene, Oregon. The autopsies are already underway, and the scene is being processed.” </p><p>“The cause of death seems pretty apparent,” Morgan said with a look of disgust on his face. </p><p>"The time between this most recent kill and the last abduction is much shorter. We need to move fast," Hotch said, his voice grave. "Kate, I'd like for you to come with me to the FBI satellite office in Bend, that's where we're landing. Kayla Whitmore's credit card was used to buy gas right outside the town limits. Rossi, I'd like for you and Reid to ride out to Eugene. It should be undisturbed."</p><p>"I already don't understand this guy," Rossi muttered. "The first baby survives, the third doesn't. The second victim is blindfolded, but it doesn't appear the others were. He makes them write their own letters. Then he uses the third victim's credit card. This behavior…it's erratic."</p><p>“Is the message on the wall the same in both crime scenes?” I asked, already knowing the answer.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>--</p><p>The media hadn’t named our unsub yet, but I was sure it wouldn’t be long, especially once word of Kayla Whitmore reached the public. This type of violence always draws attention. </p><p>Rossi was moving around the room, silent, but his eyes moving rapidly over everything. “He’s a cocky son of a bitch, I’ll give him that.” </p><p>I nodded. “Do we have the original note?” One of the deputies brought over an evidence bag, inside of it was the wrinkled piece of paper. “Have we analyzed this yet?”</p><p>The man nodded. “It’s red ink, just like the last.” </p><p>"It makes sense; blood might start to coagulate and make it more difficult to work with. Rossi, come here." I called, offering him the note.</p><p><em>“Give justice to the weak and the fatherless; maintain the right of the afflicted and the destitute. Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked,” </em>he read. “It sounds biblical.” </p><p>“It is. It’s Psalm 82, verses 3 through 4.” </p><p>“Was the first note biblical?” </p><p>“The first victim was made to write, <em>‘Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them.</em>’ That’s from Ephesians. There are similar themes in both letters.” </p><p>“So, he’s perverting the bible to fit his own fucked up narrative? How original.” The older man handed the paper back to me. “We have to find out how he’s choosing them.”</p><p>My gaze moved over to the right wall of the room. "Did the unsub leave any prints when he wrote on the wall?"</p><p>It wasn't the first message I'd seen written in blood, but I don't think it's something you ever get used to. “’Do you see this, son of man?’ could be another biblical reference. It’s Ezekiel chapter 8, verse 17. “Do you see this, son of man? Yet you will see still greater abominations than these.’”</p><p>“So, are the children abominations? Or the mothers?” The deputy said quietly.</p><p>“The mothers,” I answered. “He doesn’t harm the children. I think it must go against his…moral code.”</p><p>The deputy scoffed behind me, and I was inclined to agree; the idea that someone could do something like this and have a moral code was almost impossible to imagine.</p><p>But devils hide in plain sight all the time.</p><p>“His rage is escalating,” I pointed out. </p><p>I heard the deputy ask Rossi what that meant. </p><p>“This guy is a bum,” the man who developed the art of profiling explained. "He can't get a girlfriend, and he has this idea in his mind that it’s the women’s fault. He thinks women owe him sex, love, whatever he wants.”</p><p>I walked away from the wall, turning to face the two men. “He thinks they’re dirty, unclean. It’s why he makes them write the note.  By making them say they deserved what he did to them, he’s humiliating them even after death.” </p><p>The deputy’s face was pale as he survived the scene around him. “Why does he make them leave the messages in their own blood?” </p><p>“Only one message is from them,” I replied, gesturing to the evidence bag. “The message in the blood is from the unsub.” </p><p>Before we exited the room, I turned back to that message again, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. </p><p>Both victims had been discovered in the exact same way. The women were naked, stabbed multiple times, but with no signs of sexual assault. They were positioned in the middle of the blood-soaked mattress, their arms spread wide.</p><p>He had left the same message on the walls of the room, written in the blood of the woman he killed. </p><p>
  <em>“Do you see this, son of man? Do you see?” </em>
</p><p>--</p><p>“The media is calling him The Prophet.” </p><p>Rossi scoffed. “I bet it was that wet behind the ears deputy who leaked the note and told him the kid’s biblical theories.” </p><p>Rossi and I had arrived at the FBI office in Bend, Oregon about an hour ago. Kate and Hotch had already set up; JJ and Morgan were on their way back from Silverton now. </p><p>“So, what do we know about this jag-off?” Rossi questioned, staring at the evidence board. </p><p>Hotch came to stand at the head of the conference table, his eyes sharp, his voice clipped. "Reid, Dave, what did the M.E. say about the Eugene autopsies?” </p><p>"He said he suspected it was a botched c-section. Kayla was just over 40 weeks pregnant, but he said it's not uncommon for first-time mothers to go up to 42 weeks.” </p><p>“I know that’s right,” I heard JJ mutter from the speaker placed in the center of the table. </p><p>“Indicates a lack of medical knowledge,” Morgan offered. “Because we know this guy isn’t squeamish.” </p><p>I agreed with my friend but didn't comment on it; my mind already on another topic. "What's interesting is that Kayla had an anterior placenta, meaning it attached to the front of her uterus. Usually, the placenta attaches to the posterior wall, meaning it's more towards her back. Because of the unusual placement of the placenta, I think that the death of this fetus was accidental." </p><p>“It wasn’t a fetus, Reid,” Kate snapped. “It was a baby.”</p><p>I cleared my throat, meeting her angry gaze. I knew Callahan was the guardian of a young girl, and based on my years working with fellow agents who were also parents, I knew it was best not to argue about definitions and semantics. "I'm sorry, Kate," I murmured.</p><p>Her gaze softened. "It's fine. Sorry. This case is just…this is a lot." She looked down to swipe across her tablet screen. "This child was a boy too?"</p><p>I nodded. “All three of the victims were pregnant with boys.” </p><p>“So, he wants boys?” </p><p>Rossi turned to Kate. “He wants mothers of boys. Probably his way of killing his mother over and over again.”</p><p>“But how does he know the babies are boys?” JJ asked.</p><p>“So, what do they have in common?” Hotch asked. “Let’s add Nicole Williamson into the mix too, what do we have?” </p><p>“There were quotes from the bible in the two complete notes. Those specific verses are often referenced when they speak about protecting children,” I said, my eyes moving over the files. “The women were all in their 20’s. They were all at least 39 weeks pregnant, and...huh, there’s not a father named in any of the medical charts.” </p><p>“But how does he know that!” JJ huffed again in frustration. </p><p>“And are we sure this unsub is a guy?” Callahan questioned. “There was no sign of sexual assault.” </p><p>“If we follow statistics, women take babies, and men take children. With that in mind, it would be safe to assume this was a woman, but the amount of rage we’re seeing makes me think it’s a man.” I turned my back to the team, my eyes moving over the crime scene photos. "The letter was written under duress, but the language is very misogynic. Based on the information Kevin gathered about Kayla's online life, she had a normal amount of self-esteem. It's out of character that she'd talk about herself this way. By all accounts, she was excited for the baby. It's also incredibly difficult to stab someone 54 times. All the women would have fought him until the end. He'd have to be stronger to subdue her. It's a biological instinct, mothers' will stop at nothing to protect their children."</p><p>Hotch had pulled out his phone before I finished speaking, dialing Kevin Lynch to give him the criteria of the person we were searching for. "We need women in the Bend, Oregon area that are close to giving birth. There will not be fathers listed on the medical charts. She'll be at least 39 weeks into her pregnancy."</p><p>“Alright, so that would leave us with…” Kevin wasn’t able to finish his sentence before an alarm started blaring over the speaker, almost drowning out Kevin’s yelp of surprise. </p><p>“What is it?” Hotch asked. “Did something happen?”</p><p>"I…I don't know, sir," Kevin answered after he had finally gotten the alarm to quiet. "I was running the search, and…it triggered some sort of system-wide alarm. It completely locked me out of Penny’s system.” </p><p>Morgan clicked his tongue. “That doesn’t make any sense. Penelope wouldn’t set some alarm without a reason.” </p><p>“Wait. Kevin, was there any sort of message that came up when you triggered the alarm?” Hotch asked, his tone urgent. </p><p>There was a weird tension on Hotch’s face while he waited for Kevin to reply. “Yeah, uh, just a dialogue box that says ‘Nightingale.’” </p><p>“Nightingale?” Kate asked. “Isn’t that the…”</p><p>Hotch didn't reply; he hung up abruptly while Kevin was still speaking. I felt a chill run down my spine when I noticed his hands trembled slightly.</p><p>“What is it, Hotch?” Rossi asked urgently. </p><p>But he never got a chance to answer; a deputy stormed into the room. "We just got a report of an abandoned car outside of a grocery store about half a mile from here. It's registered to a young woman, and there was an empty infant car seat strapped in the back."</p><p>Hotch took the paper from him but didn't look at it. His eyes were screwed shut, and his shoulders were tense.</p><p>I heard when the voice spoke on the other end of the line. I heard the deep breath Hotch let out before he spoke.</p><p>“Penelope, I need to know where y/n is.” </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Price We Pay</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Spencer’s entire world has shifted, but before he can dwell on any of it, he and the rest of the team must race against the clock to find the unsubs newest victim.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is the last planned one from Spencer’s POV. This is sort of another cliffhanger…but I’ll try to have chapter 5 out as soon as I can. Thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The most terrible moments in my life never happened slowly. I couldn’t be sure if that’s because of how my brain processed them or that’s just how they happened.</p><p>My hours with Tobias seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. My father all but ran out of my life. The light left Maeve’s eyes in a fraction of a second.</p><p>This was different.</p><p>I heard Hotch's question; I saw the pain ripple across his face when Garcia gave a muffled reply.</p><p>“Penelope,” he said, his voice sounding hollow. “I know you know where she is. I think she’s…she’s in danger, Penelope. <em>Please.” </em></p><p>Hotch doesn't say please. Hotch doesn't beg. I knew that, of course, I knew that. I had known the man for over 10 years now.</p><p>That is why his behavior didn't make sense.</p><p>Looking back, I think this moment happened so slowly because my brain refused to process the gravity of this moment. It was trying to protect me.</p><p>Why would Hotch ask about Y/n right now? I knew Garcia must have helped her go into hiding…but why were we talking about it now?</p><p>Despite my brain lagging, my body knew something was wrong. My lungs seized. I heard Rossi say something. His voice was coming from the right…but I couldn't hear him. It's like I was underwater; everything was muffled.</p><p>My body was going into shock, but I couldn’t understand <em>why.</em></p><p>“Reid. Reid.” I felt a hand on my shoulder, gripping tightly, trying to anchor me to the moment. “Spencer, come on, kid. Focus.”</p><p><em>He never calls me Spencer, </em>I thought, turning my head to the left to meet the wide brown eyes of my friend. “Derek? What…You’re still driving back.”</p><p>“We were a block away.” He turned me more towards him, his left hand coming up to grip the back of my neck, applying just enough pressure to make me focus. “I know this is hard, Kid. But we need you.”</p><p>Realistically it had only been minutes since Hotch picked up his phone, but it had felt like hours. And everyone in this room had already pieced together a puzzle I was still struggling to see.</p><p>I blinked. Then I blinked again. “Y/n doesn’t have a family." When I turned my gaze to Hotch, I saw my unit chief, my boss, my <em>friend</em> tense for a second before he lifted his head, meeting my gaze head-on. "You…You created the Nightingale system after Haley died. It's emergency family relocation. She's…she wasn't close enough with any of her family to use it."</p><p>All of the pieces of the puzzle were there, right there in front of me, but I couldn't snap them together.</p><p>Hotch didn't say anything for a moment; he just looked at me. Then he lowered the phone from his ear, clicking a button before the sound of clicking keys filled the room. "You're on speaker, Garcia."</p><p>"Sir?" she questioned, her voice nasally and thick with congestion. But even though that, just that one word was dripping with sadness and unease.</p><p>"You need to hurry, Penelope. We think the unsub may already have her."</p><p>She gave a choked sob before the clicking of her computer keys got faster.</p><p><em>But this doesn’t make sense. </em>“The unsub only takes pregnant women,” I rasped. “He’s…he’s after…but he’s not after any pregnant women…he’s after…”</p><p>My mind seemed to wake up with that thought, adrenaline finally running through my system and becoming useful.</p><p>Pregnancy, on average, lasts for 280 days. Our unsub wanted heavily pregnant women…he wanted women that were about to go into labor.</p><p>Images of the night I was outside her apartment flashed in my mind. The <em>only </em>night I had ever had with her…279 days ago.</p><p>The thought of her being with someone else pained me, but I grasped onto the idea with both hands, holding on tightly.</p><p>“She’s not…she doesn’t fit the victimology. She….she wouldn't be far enough along. Not unless…" My words hung in the air, my tongue-tied in my mouth, refusing to finish them.</p><p>Because if the unsub had her…she would have been pregnant <em>when she left. </em></p><p>My world was slowly shifting into focus at the same moment I felt JJ’s hand on my upper arm.</p><p>“Spence,” JJ whispered.</p><p>“Did you know?” I choked out. “Did all of you know?”</p><p>Morgan clicked his tongue against his teeth before he shook his head. “Nah, kid. I didn’t know.”</p><p>But my eyes weren't on either of the people at my sides; my eyes were across the room. My eyes were locked on the man I had always trusted with my life. The man who was the best <em>father </em>I had ever known.</p><p>“No one knew besides Garcia and myself,” he said firmly. “I ordered her not to tell anyone else. If you have any issues, you can take them up with me.”</p><p>“If I have any <em>issues?</em>” I hissed, my teeth snapping together. It wasn’t until I felt wetness on my cheeks that I realized I was crying. “You…She’s pregnant.”</p><p>All of the tension seemed to leave his face, leaving him looking as battered as I felt. “We’ll do this later, Spencer.”</p><p>He never called me Spencer. “Is…is the baby…mine?” I had to ask, but everyone in the room already knew.</p><p>The man I thought was my friend nodded. “Yes.”</p><p>“Hotch!” JJ shrieked. “What were you thinking?! What was Y/n thinking?!”</p><p>Any emotion in his eyes hardened at her tone, his shoulders squared. The familiar coldness I saw when he faced down monsters and madmen took over his face. He didn’t look like my friend, like the man I had always admired. He wasn’t Hotch, he wasn’t Aaron; he was Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. And he was giving that look…to me.</p><p>“I did this because she <em>asked </em>me to. She showed up at my house in the <em>middle of the fucking night</em> because of a fight she had with you. She was…She is like family to me, and she was terrified. Because she went to tell the man she loved that she was pregnant, and he was cruel to her. He said he wished she was dead."</p><p>I didn’t flinch under his words; I knew what I had done.</p><p>“How could she trust you after that? She didn’t even know you had a problem, Reid.”</p><p>My addiction was always the elephant in the room. It didn't matter that I had struggled with it for the better part of 10 years; the team still refused to speak about it out loud.</p><p>Until now.</p><p>“You should have told me,” was all I could say.</p><p>Hotch didn’t budge. “You should have been a man worth telling.”</p><p>I flinched then; it was like he shot me. I think it would have hurt less if he had shot me.</p><p>Rossi stepped forward, placing a hand on our unit chief’s shoulder. “We don’t have time for this. If he does have our girl, we have to find her. We have to find…them.”</p><p> “Garcia,” Hotch barked out.</p><p>"I've got it! Her address is 20 Royal Oak Road. But I don't know if she'll be there. I hacked into her computer, and she had…she had a doctor's appointment scheduled for tonight."</p><p>I wanted to ask why she would have a doctors’ appointment scheduled for tonight…but I knew why. “Who is her doctor?”</p><p>“Reid,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry-“</p><p>“Who is her doctor, Garcia?”</p><p>“His name is Dr. Johnson. He’s affiliated with St. Mercy’s hospital.”</p><p>Hotch grabbed his jacket, already heading for the door. “Rossi, you and Kate go to the abduction site. See if they have any sort of surveillance, witnesses. Anything. JJ, you’re with me at her home. Morgan, I need you to get to the hospital. Spencer-“ </p><p>I didn’t hear what he told me. I was already out the door.</p><p>--</p><p>I had climbed into Morgan’s SUV without thought, settling in my seat a moment before he jumped behind the wheel.</p><p>My friend didn’t say anything while we made the 5-minute drive to St. Mercy’s hospital. He said nothing while we both ran inside the hospital’s entrance. The first time he spoke was to the nursing staff, flashing his badge and asking them to pull Dr. Johnson away from whatever patient he was with.</p><p>I’m not sure what Derek said, I’m not sure how he was able to convey to them how urgent the matter was, but the doctor was in front of us moments later. He was an older man with thinning white hair and tanned weathered skin.</p><p>“Sir, I’m SSA Derek Morgan, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. We’re with the FBI, and we’d like to ask you a few questions about one of your patients.”</p><p>“I’m afraid I can’t talk about any of my patients without-“</p><p>“I understand that sir, but these are extenuating circumstances. We believe she may be in danger. You heard about the murder in Eugene yesterday?”</p><p>All color drained from the man’s face. “You think the person who did that has one of my patients?”</p><p>“Yes, we do,” Derek said firmly. He was always so good at this part. He could talk his way into everything. I couldn’t help but wonder what that must be like. “She’s very heavily pregnant, possibly…possibly with a boy.”</p><p>“I have several patients that are in their last trimester but…” he trailed off, shifting uncomfortably.</p><p>“We have reason to believe that Y/n Y/l/n might be in danger. Her records indicate she had an appointment here with you tonight.”</p><p>Dr. Johnson frowned. “I don’t have a patient by that name. I…” he trailed off, his gaze shifting over to me. “I have a Y/n Reid.”</p><p>Ever since my confrontation with Hotch, I had been existing in a detached state. Maybe it was my mind’s way of keeping me safe. But hearing her name… “She goes by Reid?” The corners of my lips twitched involuntarily despite the pain radiating from my chest. <em>Of course, she did. It would be the last name I would ever look for. </em></p><p>“I’m afraid I really can’t give out any more information –“</p><p>“How far along is she?” I interrupted.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I can’t-“</p><p>Every single bit of calm and control I had inside of me seem to snap all at once. I took a step forward, my hands balled into fists at my sides. “Listen,” I seethed, my voice like iron. “Not only am I a federal agent, but I am also the fucking <em>father. </em>I want to know when she’s due!”</p><p>Dr. Johnson was quite a bit shorter than I was; and while I had never felt like a particularly intimidating person, he seemed to shrink back under my focus. "She's…she's set to be induced tomorrow morning. I have my patients come in the night before. I wanted…I wanted her to be induced earlier but…" He adjusted the glasses on his nose. "She's just so stubborn. She thought she'd go into labor on her own. But I can’t let her go over 42 weeks. She’ll be 41 weeks and 6 days tomorrow. But she never checked in for the appointment.”</p><p>“Son of a bitch,” Morgan breathed, pulling his phone out of his pocket and typing rapidly.</p><p>“Do…do you know the sex of the baby?” I asked, still trying to hold on to a hope that we were wrong; somehow, despite all of the evidence, we had all been so wrong about this.</p><p>“I do. She…Ms. Reid doesn’t know. She wanted it to be a surprise.” He looked uncomfortable for a moment. “Do you…do you want to know?”</p><p>“NO, he doesn’t.” I turned to look at Morgan, my eyes struggling to focus. “You’ll find out in the delivery room, kid. We’re going to find her. We’re going to find <em>them.</em>”</p><p>It seemed like a ridiculous thing to stress, but it brought me some small sort of comfort while my friend led me out of the hospital to the SUV.</p><p>--</p><p>Morgan had called Hotch to confirm what we all already knew. Y/n had disappeared to Bend, Oregon, and she was in the final days of her pregnancy. Rossi and Kate found a car registered to Y/n Reid abandoned in a grocery store parking lot. There was an infant car seat and two bags in the back seat. One bag contained baby items…the other were the sorts of things a mother might need in the hospital.</p><p>We were all to meet Hotch and JJ at Y/n's apartment, and Hotch had asked that I come along in the hopes that I would see something everyone else had missed.</p><p>Because I had known her better than anyone.</p><p>“Kid,” Morgan said softly, breaking the silence inside the car. “We’ll find her…we’ll find them.”</p><p>I found myself nodding in agreement automatically. It felt like the right sort of reaction to have. My friend was worried about me, and sometimes you just <em>do </em>things because it’s better for the other person.</p><p>I couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how Y/n felt that night. The night she left.</p><p>"Her phone is still on," I found myself saying. Morgan didn't respond, but I saw him glance over at me out of the corner of his eye. "The same phone she had before she left. I don't know why she never disconnected it. Sometimes…" I broke off, emotion suddenly clogging my throat, threatening to strangle me. "Sometimes, I call it just to hear her voice. I know she won't pick up. But the…the message is still her voice. I always leave a message. I don't know if she ever checks them. But I always leave one…just…just in case." My hand came up to wipe angrily at my cheeks, embarrassed both by my confession and the emotions I couldn't seem to hold in.</p><p>“She’ll hear the messages, Reid.”</p><p>I gave him another automatic nod.</p><p>It turns out Y/n didn’t live too far from the police station. Her home was in an apartment complex on the south end of town, on the third floor. I couldn’t the number of steps from the elevator to her blue front door. Twenty-three.</p><p>The instant I stepped inside, it felt wrong; everything felt wrong. The living room was basic and utilitarian. Impersonal. Nothing like Y/n. She was the sort of person who always felt like home.</p><p>This didn’t feel like anybody’s home.</p><p>I followed Morgan through the house, taking note of how clean and orderly everything was. Y/n had never been messy, but her apartment at home was filled to the brim with objects and things that made her smile.</p><p>"There are no pictures on the walls, nothing personal,” Morgan noted, giving voice to my own thoughts. “Hotch?” he called.</p><p>“We’re in here,” his voice replied, leading us down a small hallway.</p><p>On the right side of the hallway, there was another door that had been thrown open, and we found the other member of my team standing inside.</p><p>The room was painted a pale grey with white curtains hanging across the only window. There was a small, darker grey crib against the biggest wall and a rocking chair in the corner.</p><p>Something about the sight of that rocking chair was a punch to the stomach because I could see her in it <em>so </em>clearly. Her eyes soft while she moved the chair back and forth, holding a tiny bundle in her arms.</p><p>How long had I wanted to be a father? How many times had I dreamed of starting a family with Y/n…only to lose it all now?</p><p>“Spence,” JJ said, stepping towards me.</p><p>I couldn't look at her; I ignored her because I <em>couldn’t </em>do anything else. “The doctor said she didn’t know the gender of the baby. But I don’t think she would have painted the room pink or blue. She was never that sort of person.”</p><p>My eyes ran over the rest of the room. There was a small chest of drawers against another wall with some sort of platform on top of it. <em>A changing table</em>, I thought absentmindedly. There were pictures of stars hung on the walls, small boxes of diapers stacked neatly in the closet.</p><p>By the time I made my way over to the rocking chair, I could barely see anything. My torture by Tobias had cost me so much already; my addiction had robbed so much from me. But now I was standing in my child's nursery, and I was having trouble remembering any pain that had ever felt worse than this.</p><p>There was a small table beside the chair with a small lamp placed in the middle, but my eyes were fixed on the book pearched on the edge of the table. My fingers wrapped around the spine of the book, lifting it with shaking hands. The cover was white with a tiny bunny rabbit on the corner. </p><p>“Kid,” I heard Morgan say softly from behind me.</p><p>I couldn’t stop myself from flipping open the book, even though I knew it would bring me nothing but pain.</p><p>'The Story of You' was written on the first page in swirling script, right above a sonogram picture. My eyes moved over the outline of a face that I knew I would love for the rest of my life,;my fingers moved over the glossy paper, tracing the outline of my child's features.</p><p>A strangled sound left my throat when I read the words underneath the photo, my eyes squeezing tight.</p><p>“Spencer?” Rossi asked, coming up to my side. “What is it?”</p><p>I couldn’t open my eyes, but I tried to clear my throat, willing myself to speak. “The doctor said she didn’t know the baby’s sex…but…but I think she did anyway.”</p><p>Because underneath the photo, I saw her familiar handwriting.</p><p>Knowing the name of a child that wasn't even born yet wouldn't help me find her; it wasn't relevant to the case, but I couldn't move past it.</p><p>“Isaac Benjamin Reid.”</p><p>I couldn’t be sure how long the silence lasted before Rossi asked if that name had any significance to y/n.</p><p>“No, I don’t think so,” I said softly. “It’s…it has significance to me. Isaac Asimov is my father’s favorite author. I hadn’t read any of his works since my dad left…but one day on the jet, Y/n got me talking about it. The next day I found a copy of <em>I, Robot</em> on my desk at work. She didn’t say anything, but I knew it was her.”</p><p>
  <em>It was always her. </em>
</p><p>“And Benjamin?” Hotch prodded. </p><p>I let out a heavy exhale. “Ben Walker is my NA sponsor. He has been for over 8 years.” It wasn’t lost on me that none of my team knew about Ben. I never talked about that part of my life; I hadn’t even told Y/n he was my sponsor. I had no idea how she knew about him, but there was no doubt in my mind that’s why she’s selected this name.</p><p>“This doesn’t make sense,” JJ muttered, causing me to finally look up at her. “I’m sorry, but none of this makes sense. You said that she didn’t know the baby’s sex.”</p><p>"That's what the doctor said," I clarified before closing the book softly. "I guess she just had a feeling."</p><p>My friend nodded. “Of course. But how did the unsub know? Garcia has been digging for over an hour. Y/n was…she was hiding, Reid. She worked from home. She doesn’t have a social media presence. Garcia can’t even find any indication that she has friends.”</p><p>“So, how did the unsub find her?” Hotch finished. “How did the unsub know she existed? Let alone that she was pregnant with a boy.”</p><p>Kate stepped into the room, her eyes moving over everything. "Alright. We need to revisit each victim. Then we need to determine if he came here for y/n or if he just found her. If she's over 40 weeks, I'm sure it's obvious that she's pregnant."</p><p>JJ moved to the window and pulled back the curtains, her eyes moving over the street. “But how did he know it was a boy? How did he know <em>any </em>of the victims were pregnant with boys?”</p><p>The ringing of Hotch’s phone cut through the air. “Go ahead, Garcia.”</p><p>“Sir, I’ve been trying to hack not the security systems of the buildings around the supermarket. I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but I’m trying to find any vehicle that seems evil.”</p><p>“Did you find anything?”</p><p>"Kevin and I have been running license plates against the state of Oregon's DMV. There's a bank two blocks away from the grocery store. Their security footage captured a black sedan driving by about 15 minutes after Y/n's debit card was used at the grocery store."</p><p>Rossi spoke next. “Is there any reason to suspect that car?”</p><p>“The plates belong to a different car, a red Volvo. It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got.”</p><p>Hotch nodded. “It’s our best lead. Can you track the car through traffic cameras?”</p><p>“Doing it now, sir.”</p><p>We all started moving towards the door before Hotch gave another order. "Send us the most recent locations, then every single location afterward as soon as you get it. We'll split up and try to canvas the area. Y/n could go into labor at any moment. He couldn't have gone far."</p><p>Hotch didn't bother telling me to stay behind this time, but I felt his eyes on me when I got into one of the SUVs. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was his knowledge that I wouldn't listen to him anyway.</p><p>It didn’t matter.</p><p>Morgan set off at a breakneck speed, his door barely closing before we started moving. His posture was tense, and his eyes were moving over the landscape rapidly.</p><p>“She’s gonna be okay, Spencer.”</p><p>I let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t know that Derek.”</p><p>“Yes, I do,” he said firmly. “She’s not just a pregnant woman. She’s a profiler. She’s one of the best profilers I’ve ever seen. I don’t know how this son of a bitch found her, but Garcia created her background. There is no fucking way he knew who she is. He doesn’t know he took an FBI agent.”</p><p>The thought should have brought me comfort, but it didn't. It just tore an even bigger hole in my chest. Y/n had left because of me. She had gone into hiding because she was afraid of <em>me. </em>She had a new identity that had potentially made her vulnerable…made my son vulnerable because of me.</p><p>Morgan was right; we had to find her.</p><p>Because I didn’t think I would be able to survive her paying for my mistakes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! This fic is based off a prompt that I was given from @yours-truly-r on Tumblr. She's writing a fic with the same plot line if any of y'all wanna go check it out.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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